


Spirit of Angel

by imperfectinsanity



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 1970s, Alternate Universe - 1970s, Artist Castiel, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Filming, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-17 14:25:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1391065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperfectinsanity/pseuds/imperfectinsanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is a down-on-his-luck mechanic in 1973 who was just evicted from his home, lost the girl of his dreams, and has nothing but his looks to get him by. Fortunately, his looks come in handy. After wandering into a small bookstore, Dean meets a starving artist named Castiel Novak, who just so happens to be looking for a new muse for his paintings. The two make an agreement- Dean can stay with Castiel as long as he models for the artist. What starts as a simple agreement develops into something that straddles the line of society's morals. If the two become too intimate, Castiel's business may suffer because of it. Tension, angst, fluff, love, drugs, and one little camcorder capture the compelling story of two men who fell in love in unfortunate circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Starving Artist

_March,1973_

Rain is an uncomfortable truth about the outside world. The thing about the truth is that everyone says they enjoy it, but no one really wants to experience it, because it sucks. Like the truth, rain is unforgiving, uncaring, and unaffected by whatever it happens to fall upon. Today the rain just happened to be pouring down on Dean Winchester.

Dean had six bucks to his name, a camcorder, and his trusty leather jacket. Losing his apartment hadn’t been unexpected; he hadn’t paid the bills in two months, and yet he still wasn’t prepared to be out on the streets. Balling up his fists and then uncurling his fingers, Dean anticipated his next move. He couldn’t move in with his brother. No, he wouldn’t. Sam had just recently married the love of his life and Dean wouldn’t impose on him if he didn’t have to. Besides, Dean had always been able to stand on his own. He was, in many ways, a wayward, a traveler…

Lost in his thoughts, Dean bumped into a passerby, who proceeded to give him a nasty look.  
“Sorry, Ma’am.” He tipped his head, but she just kept walking, heels clicking against the wet sidewalk.

“People these days.” He mumbled under his breath, stuffing his hands in his pockets and continuing his idle wandering and day dreaming.

A strange sadness settled over him. Over the past few months, Dean had lost everything. He’d lost his long-term girlfriend, Lisa, his job as a mechanic, and now his home. Sure, the place had been something of a fixer-upper, but it was better than no place. For Dean, anywhere could be a home if he put a little heart into it. That was why, when Lisa first moved in with him, Dean had insisted on throwing a little house-warming party. He remembered Lisa’s contagious laughter, the dull thud of the music, and the warm scent of apple pie that seemed to constantly linger.

Finally the rain died down to a dull trickle, and the man let out a sigh of relief, leaving his thoughts behind him. There was the chime of a bell nearby, catching Dean’s attention. His eyes flickered over to the source of the noise to spot the door of a bookstore sliding shut. He’d never been one for literature, but at least there was some place open on a Sunday afternoon where he could warm up a little and dry off. Eyes darting left, then right, Dean crossed the street and slid into the cozy bookstore titled “Novak’s”.

“Welcome.” An unusually deep, and yet warm, voice greeted as the door clicked shut behind Dean.

“Uh… Hey.” Dean raised his head up, shaking his hair out and sending little sprinkles of water splattering to the ground.

“Are you looking for a particular book?” The voice in question asked, and Dean shifted uneasily, examining the man the voice belonged to.

He was standing behind a counter, leaning forward a bit. His hair was chocolate brown and looked damp. There was a pencil behind his ear, holding back a few strands of the man’s messy do. Taking a step closer, Dean took note of the blueish gray of the man’s eyes. The color was, by dictionary definition, a sad blue-gray, but the crow’s feet next to his eyes made the blue color seem cheerful. After a moment more of quiet, the man coughed and spoke up again.

“I’m Castiel Novak. I uh… I own and run this little shop here. I don’t believe we’ve met.” Castiel held out his hand, and Dean looked down before taking it and giving it a firm shake. His hand was surprisingly cold, sending a shiver up Dean’s spine.

“I’m Dean Winchester.” He dropped the man’s calloused hand, and then glanced around the bookstore yet again. There was something warm and inviting about this place, though it was definitely not the most organized store. There were books strewn about on tables, coffee stains on the countertop, and there was the distinct scent of dust and ink.

“Well, no offense, Dean Winchester, but you look like you just got done taking a shower in full attire.”

“Dude, it was raining out there.”

“No umbrella?”

“Nope.”

“Well, maybe if you buy a book, I’ll let you go upstairs and change into one of my outfits.” Castiel gestured toward the staircase.

“I uh… I would but.” Dean reached into his pockets and turned them inside out to make a point.

There was a moment of quiet between the two before Cas nodded in understanding.

“Right… Alright, alright, follow me.”

Castiel took the lead, Dean following in his footsteps, up the flight of stairs. If he thought the store was messy, this was another thing in itself. There were papers, sketches, strewn about the long hallway, and the occasional paint splatter on the dark wooden walls.

“You an artist?” Dean asked, examining the taped up drawings on one of the walls.

“I dabble.”

Castiel turned left, into an open doorway that led into an equally messy bedroom. Dean stood in the doorway, watching as the man rummaged through his dresser to find something that might fit his guest.

When he finally found something suitable, Castiel tossed the outfit to Dean, who nodded in thanks. Taking a step into the room, Dean immediately began to tug his shirt up over his head.

“Woah, woah, woah! Give me a second to leave the room.” Castiel sputtered, his cheeks a light shade of pink.

Dean chuckled and winked, tossing his shirt onto the floor. Castiel just rolled his eyes and turned around, walking out to the hallway again.

Within minutes Dean was out of his sopping wet clothes and into the warm, not-so-casual, wear of Mr. Castiel Novak. He exited the room, doing a dramatic little spin to display the outfit to Castiel.

“It barely fits you, but it will do.” He critiqued, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Thanks.”

“Of course. Do you mind telling me why you were out in the rain anyways?”

“I was living in the apartment complex downtown.” Dean motioned toward the south side of the building. “Things got a little tight for money, so I ended up wandering the streets. Pretty simple.”

Castiel tilted his head, blue eyes full of something like sympathy.  
“So where were you heading?”

“Anywhere.”

“Well, I guess you found your place.” Castiel chuckled and began walking again, this time leading Dean to a little kitchen.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” The host asked, pouring a hot cup for himself.

“Sure. One cream, two sugars.”

Cas nodded, fixing their drinks and then sitting down at the little table in the center of the kitchen. Dean followed suit, sipping his hot coffee greedily.

“You know...” Dean began, picking up a painting from the surface of the table. It was a watercolor of a young woman smoking a cigarette. “These are pretty good. Is this just a hobby, or do you make money off of these? Because you definitely could.”

“I try to sell what I can, but it’s hard making a living off of art. People just don’t appreciate it.” Cas mumbled as he brought his mug up to his lips, letting the steam moisten them.

“Yeah…” Dean set the painting back down again.

“What about you? What do you do for a living?”

“Well, until recently, I worked on cars.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Yeah… I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love cars. I love getting my hands dirty, but.”

“But?”

“But I really love making films.” As if on cue, Dean reached into his leather jacket, which he was still sporting, along with Castiel’s clothing, and pulled out his camcorder.

“Ah. A fellow artist then.” Cas chuckled softly.

Dean turned the camera on, smiling a bit.

“Say hello to the camera.”

“Hello to the camera.”

Dean rolled his eyes and clicked the camera off again, smiling just a bit, at the corners of his mouth. He took another drink of his coffee.

“So do you mostly paint people?” He asked, stuffing the camcorder back in his pocket.

“Yes. I mean… What I really love is interpreting their expressions, and getting that down on paper. Of course, that doesn’t really sell. Beauty sells. Sex sells.”

“You got that right.” Dean nodded, looking out the window, seeing that the rain had stopped.

They remained quiet for a moment, occasionally sipping their coffee and stealing glances at one another.

“Do you live here by yourself?” Dean asked, his eyes wandering around the room for any sign of family photos, or children’s toys.

“Yeah. I don’t exactly make enough to support a family yet.” Castiel responded matter-of-factly.

“See, you took the smart route. I was fresh out of high school and took some chances on a girl that ended up sending my life right down the crapper.” Dean laughed a bit to himself. If he couldn’t laugh about it, what could he do?

“Hey, you’re young. You still have plenty of opportunity to change things around.” Castiel reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He handed one to Dean, then grabbed one for himself. He lit his first, then lit the end of Dean’s with the hot tip of his cigarette.

“Thanks. I needed that.” Dean inhaled the smoke, Castiel following suit.

“You know Dean…”

Dean cocked a brow.

“If you need a place to stay, I think we could make an arrangement.”

“If you want me to work for you, I’m going to have to apologize. I don’t think I can work sales. That shit bores me to death.”

“No, no, no.” Castiel chuckled, shaking his head.

“Then, what?”

“I was thinking… Well you seem to appreciate art, and I need a muse. Have you ever done any modeling?”

“You want me to model for your paintings?”

Castiel nodded simply in response.

“Your payment would be a room to sleep in and food to eat until you can get back up on your feet.”

“That… that actually sounds like a pretty damn good deal. Well, Cas, it looks like you’ve got yourself a new muse.” Dean pushed the cigarette between his lips, reaching his hand across the table to shake the other man’s hand.

The deal was arranged within just a few hours of the boys meeting each other, but it went better than either of them could have expected.

Castiel gave Dean the first week to get settled into the apartment. He let Dean sleep on the couch in his small living area. Of course, Dean didn’t have very many possessions, so the next step was to take him out shopping. They picked out a whole new wardrobe for Dean, just so he wouldn’t be forced to wear Castiel’s too-tight clothes every day.

After a week of getting used to each other’s personalities, Castiel arranged for Dean to model for his first painting of him. The venue was Castiel’s room, Dean sitting on the plain white sheets of his bed. The contrast of Dean’s dark attire and the sheets was going to brilliant on canvas.

“Alright just… Fold your hands over your lap.” Castiel instructed, standing behind his blank, white, canvas.

Dean started to do as he was told.  
“No, no, actually… Put one of your hands in your hair.”

“Cas. Give me a position and stick with it.”

Cas crinkled his brows, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Not like that.” They both chuckled and Castiel nodded as Dean brought his hand up to tangle in his hair.

His breath caught as his gray eyes ran over Dean’s whole body, admiring the aesthetics of the position.

“Good.” He managed to breathe.

Dean felt his cheeks flush, and he glanced away for a moment. Castiel held up a finger, motioning for Dean to keep his eyes locked with his own. Then he began to paint.

The whole experience seemed to take hours. In fact, glancing at the clicking clock overhead, Dean was pretty sure that two hours had come and gone a long time ago.

“Are you almost done?” He grumbled impatiently.  
“Give me a few more minutes…” Castiel was biting his lower lip, completely immersed in his work. The expression he wore made Dean’s mouth go dry, and he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“And… done!” Castiel grinned and took a step back.

“Thank god.” Dean stood up and stretched out his legs, making his way over to stand next to Castiel.

The painting was unbelievably realistic, but there was also something else about it. The colors and the lighting, the texture, everything was really fantastic.

“Woah. That is… That is fantastic, Cas.”

“Thanks. I did have a good model.”

Dean rolled his eyes and slid an arm around the other man’s shoulders.

“You definitely need to frame this. And not just because it’s starring me.”

Castiel nodded, setting his brush down on the easel.

“Wait… give me a second.” Dean hurried out of the room, returning a few minutes later with his trust camcorder. He flipped it on, focusing on the painting first, then on Castiel.

“Well, Mr. Novak, how does it feel to be a famous artist?”

“It feels…” Castiel chuckled and swatted the camera away. Dean laughed, turning it off.

“It feels pretty damn good, Mr. Winchester.”

 

 

 

 


	2. For the First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say, but I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Sunlight streamed through the high windows of the dusty living room, reflecting off the dirt that floated in the air. There was something beautiful about waking to the dim, orange, light of the sun pouring through the curtains. He didn’t even mind that he had to sleep on the couch. It was warm, comfortable, and it felt like home. Dean took in a deep breath, swirling the specks of dust through the air. Shifting, he sat up and blinked a few times, clearing the haze of sleep from his eyes.

With a quiet yawn, the world came into focus again. There was the hissing of hot coffee dripping into the pot in the kitchen, and a familiar voice humming some unrecognizable song. Dean let his feet plop to the cold, wooden, floor, and he walked out to the kitchen, stretching his arms over his head.

“Mornin’, Cas.” He’d been living with the man for a few weeks now, modeling for him and occasionally helping out in the bookstore downstairs. With the time they spent together they were either laughing or arguing over stupid things. Castiel tended to wake up early to tend to the store, but it seemed that even on his free days Castiel woke up as soon as the sun rose.

“Good morning, Dean. The coffee is on.” Castiel had his back to Dean, frying something in a skillet that smelled delicious.

“I see that. When’d you wake up?” Dean asked curiously, taking a seat down at the kitchen table.

“A few hours ago.” Castiel’s shoulders lifted and slumped.

“Mm… Early bird catches the worm, huh?” Dean tapped his fingers against the table, smiling a bit and looking out the window. He then glanced down at the table, spotting the newspaper laid out in the middle. He reached across and grabbed it, flipping through the ads.

“I guess you could say that.” Castiel looked back, cocking a brow. “You’re not usually interested in the news, are you?”

“Not really.” Dean admitted, chuckling under his breath. “But, I figure I can’t live here forever, right? I should look for a job.”

“Ah.” Castiel turned the stove off, dishing the eggs he had made onto two plates. He slid one hot plate in front of Dean, sliding the other to the opposite side. He then proceeded to pour two cups of steaming coffee before taking his seat across from his guest.

“What am I going to do without my muse?” Castiel asked, a little teasing smile on his lips.

“Crash and burn.” Dean teased, the hint of a smile in his emerald eyes.

“Honestly…” Castiel lifted his cup to his lips, sipping the hot liquid that settled in the mug. “Since you began living with me I’ve produced some of the best paintings I’ve ever done…”

Dean nodded, glancing over at the painting that was hanging on one of the kitchen walls. It was the very first painting that Castiel had ever completed of Dean.

“You’ve definitely got an amazing talent.” Dean stood up and walked over to the painting, examining it for the millionth time. The colors were warm oranges and yellows, except for his eyes. Castiel seemed to have put every color of the rainbow in Dean’s eyes. The form was another thing on its own. The way that his clothes seemed to fall just right, and the way Castiel showed every outline of every muscle; it left him breathless. Even with the flaws, it was a great painting. The flaws were what made the painting so authentic.

“You know… You should hang some of these up in the bookstore. It might get you a little bit of publicity.” Dean suggested, sitting back down again.

“That is… a very smart idea, actually. Care to help me bring some of these downstairs after breakfast?” Castiel asked, mouth full of eggs.

“Sounds like a plan, Cas.”

“So, how have you been sleeping?” His host asked. Dean couldn’t help but chuckle, finally looking over Cas’ appearance. This guy had the worst case of bedhead that he’d ever seen.

“Uh. Pretty good. If that hairdo is any sign of how you’ve been sleeping, then I am definitely not sleeping quite that well.”

Cas flushed and brought his hands up to his hair, quickly brushing the strands into a more organized mess.

Dean gave a soft smile and took a bite of his breakfast.

“I’m glad. You need to get your beauty sleep.” Cas commented once he regained his dignity.

“I don’t need beauty sleep, this-“ Dean gestured towards his face. “Just comes naturally.”

Castiel snorted and rolled his eyes in response.

“I still can’t imagine you would look too good with bags under your eyes; regardless of those princess-green eyes of yours.”

Dean gave a playful smile and winked.

“You’d be surprised what I can pull off.”

“I’m sure I would be.”

Their breakfast continued like that, playful banter as they ate. Once they had cleaned their plates, Castiel instructed Dean to take some of his favorite paintings downstairs. The bookstore was closed today, so it would give them plenty of time to choose the arrangement of the paintings. While Dean transported the paintings, Castiel got the nails and hammer from one of the back rooms.

The next hour passed by with the dull sounds of hammers tapping the wall, hanging the paintings in place. Occasionally a minor injury would occur, mostly on Castiel’s part, since the man wasn’t really of the trade. Dean had experience with construction and hands-on work. However, they managed to finish the job in one piece, and when they were done, the two men stood side by side, proud of their work.

“I’d say we did a damn good job.” Dean nodded, eyeing the display proudly. The paintings hung in various places around the shop, in places set just to capture a customer’s eye. Dean wouldn’t admit it, but he was a little embarrassed that Castiel had chosen to hang up the painting of him right behind the counter, for everyone to see.

“I’d have to agree. This calls for a celebratory beer. I’ll go get us some.” Cas turned on his heels, back up the staircase to his apartment. Dean’s eyes followed him, the hint of a smile at the corners of his lips. Only once Cas was out of sight did Dean turn his attention away.

Curious eyes roamed the bookshelves. Despite having lived there for as long as he had, Dean had never really gone through the selection of books that Cas had at his disposal. Of course, Dean had never really been a big fan of literature, but he was itching to satisfy an innocent curiosity. Reaching into the pocket of his denim jacket, Dean grasped his camera, flipping it on and beginning to film.

“This is Dean Winchester, exploring unknown and dangerous territory…” He narrated as he began to walk through one of the aisles of books. His fingers traced the binds of books covered in thin, plastic film. There weren’t any books that really stood out to him, but a few of the titles seemed familiar.

“Would Dean Winchester like his beer or not?” A voice asked from behind him, startling him. Dean laughed it off, turning around to spot Cas at the other end of the aisle of books. He kept the camera focused on the other man, walking over to his host.

“And here we see the infamous Novak owner, Castiel Novak. Would Mr. Novak care to grace us with an interview?” Dean teased, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“No.” Castiel rolled his eyes, still holding both bottles of beer.

“Aw, c’mon. Cut me some slack.”

“In your dreams, Dean.” Cas gave a little playful smile that challenged him.

“Every night.” Dean responded without missing a beat. That had come as a bit of surprise, because Castiel’s cheeks flushed a soft pink color and he didn’t say anything in response.

“Cat got your tongue? Don’t be a girl, Cas.” Dean teased some more, though the camera remained steady and focused.

“Oh, you are asking for it.” Cas broke his silence and set the beer bottles down on a nearby shelf, looking directly into the camera.

“Ladies and gentle, prepare to watch Dean Winchester get his ass kicked.” With that, Castiel ducked down and tackled Dean. He fell backwards, losing his balance. Castiel stood over him, grinning.

“Dick.” Dean looked up, a half-grin on his face. His camera had fallen from his hands, laying off to the side and taping Dean’s defeat. He made no move to return the attack however.

Castiel knelt down by Dean’s head, and he mimicked Dean’s smile.

“Are you going to help me up hot stuff?” Dean cocked a brow, their eyes locking.

“Maybe.”

His green eyes rolled and he shifted to sit up on his elbows. After a moment of silence, Dean rolled over and placed both of his hands on Castiel’s shoulders, pinning him to the ground.

“Oh! You… bastard.” Castiel huffed, a bit of embarrassment in his eyes at having been caught off guard.

“Now, who’s gonna kick whose ass?”

“You won’t get much kicking done if you’re planning on keeping me pinned here like this.”

“You’re right.” The man leaning over Cas let a playful smile pull at his lips. Their eyes met, and both of them went quiet.

There was something intimate about how their eyes would connect. It wasn’t anything like the movies. The world kept going. Time moved. However, neither of them really cared. Staring into Castiel’s eyes, Dean felt like someone might actually be able to break through all the barriers he had set up. Dean had so many walls up, and so many people had try to break through to him. Sammy had tried. Lisa had tried.

Their eyes broke contact and Dean took a glimpse of Castiel’s smooth, wideset, lips. In a moment of impulse, Dean leaned down and gently brushed his own lips against Castiel’s. One hand lifted to brush against the trail of rough stubble that decorated the young man’s square jaw.

Cas was pleasantly surprised by the kiss, but he complied, moving his lips against Dean’s in silent compliancy. Down at the floor level the camera captured subtle movement; two hands interlocking fingers for the first time.


End file.
